


on our way home

by y9gurt (rydellon)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Family Dinners, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, fluff?? on this account?? wtf, its about eating dinner together, no beta we die like tubbo jumping in front of that firework, rated for language, what of it, yeah its pure delirious sbi fd au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydellon/pseuds/y9gurt
Summary: Family dinner is not a common occurrence in the Sleepy household.Which is why Phil finds it so weird to walk into the house at 6:45 pm and hear the typical bickering his sons produced whenever they interacted coming from the kitchen.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 310





	on our way home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xenia_Boo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenia_Boo/gifts).



> hope u like this xenia
> 
> title technically from razzmatazz by idkhow

Family dinner is not a common occurrence in the Sleepy household. 

Of course, all four of them eat dinner every night (Phil might actually start a war if one of his children doesn’t get fed at least two times a day) but not usually together. 

Wilbur, who usually goes first, eats dinner at 5:00. He likes working early into the morning and doesn’t like having dinner interrupting his sun-goes-down creative streak when he could be writing or planning instead. He usually makes something smaller for himself, maybe something frozen heated up in the oven or leftovers from someone else’s lunch that day or dinner the day before. On one notable occasion he grabbed two bags of pistachios from the cupboard and just went back upstairs. 

Phil hadn’t argued. As long as he was getting...some form of sustenance. 

Sometimes Phil questioned his children. He has learnt to just let it go. 

Usually the next two people to eat are him and Tommy, sometime in the hour around 6:30 and 7:30. Sometimes they eat together, Phil making something for them and shoving extras in the fridge. Sometimes Phil eats a bit earlier and Tommy a bit later. Sometimes the reverse. It’s nice eating dinner with one of his sons, even though Tommy has this bad habit of just trying to speak all the time at the table, with no qualms about spewing food out of his mouth in the process. 

It’s slightly disgusting, but Phil can put up with it for the sake of getting to have dinner with one of his sons. 

He especially loves days when he comes downstairs and Tommy is positioned at the stove, stirring a pot with pasta in it and smiling back at Phil as he gestures excitedly at the pot and the sauce he’s pulled out of the fridge. 

Phil knows Tommy enjoys cooking, he’s just not all that good at is, so any chance he gets to see his son cooking the one thing he actually can, it fills him with the kind of warm pride he’d felt when he’d first seen Tommy’s drawings littering the fridge, or when Wilbur had released his first song, or when Techno had dropped out of university to follow his dreams. 

He’s proud of them, he really is, even if Tommy keeps getting the stove dirty by forgetting to watch his boiling water, always getting distracted by something else around him.

It was ok though, he could sigh and they could wipe it up as Tommy spewed apologies and laughter, and they could still enjoy some good fucking pasta at the end of the day. 

Techno’s dinner schedule was the most erratic out of the four of them. While everyone else seemed to stick to general ‘Dinner Eating’ times, Technoblade could be caught in the kitchen from anywhere between 8:00 pm and 2:00 am, pulling leftovers from Tommy and Phil’s dinner out of the fridge and staring wide-eyed at whoever saw him in the act of preparing dinner like a scared raccoon. 

It wasn’t as if Techno wasn’t already a sort of recluse (not a full one, as he could sometimes be caught on the couch, as he enjoyed watching his donghua on a bigger screen than his monitor. He said it made reading the subtitles easier, but Phil liked to think that he at least liked being out of his room sometimes), spending most of his time in his room already, but whenever he was spotted in the kitchen he’d either freeze like he was going to get in trouble or bolt back upstairs with his plate. 

It was slightly amusing to Phil, but he had to acknowledge the fact that it would be significantly more worrying if he didn’t know why exactly Techno was doing it, and didn’t know that it was just a pre-established and hard to break habit that didn’t actually bother Techno as much as it outwardly seemed to.

Phil knew his kids had some habits they’d never grow out of. Phil knew what kind of environment he’d gotten Techno from, knew how long it had taken him to convince Techno that he was allowed to take food from the fridge in the first place, knew that Techno would unfreeze the moment he saw who it was. Knew that there were some things in life Techno would (unfortunately, in Phil’s eyes) carry with him for a long time. 

Phil knew how far he had come, and was proud of him, whatever he did.

Everyone in their family had weird fucking eating habits, especially for dinner, which is why it was so weird to walk into the house at 6:45 pm and hear the typical bickering his sons produced whenever they interacted coming from the kitchen, when normally only Tommy would be in it at this time.

That day Phil had been out since the early morning, having people to meet and errands to run and just general adult work things to accomplish that couldn’t be done from home like usual. Not only does he not like leaving his boys alone (nevermind that two of them are over the age of 18, he still doesn’t trust them around sharp objects and lighters) but going out means he has to actually dress properly for once, which is just a general annoyance. 

Coming home to bickering (and something that smells good) from the kitchen is a pleasant surprise. It's familiar and comfortable to slip into the current environment in the house, and Phil slips off his shoes and drops his bag at the front door, heading over to the kitchen to see what the ruckus (and smell) was about. 

From the doorway he can see the whole kitchen. Wilbur and Techno are at the stove, each cooking something different, while Tommy is sitting on the counter next to a still-dirty cutting board full of different bowls filled with cut-up materials for what looks to be burritos. 

The stove is visibly full, a covered pot (probably full of rice) sits on a back burner while Techno and Will bump elbows as they cook peppers and chicken respectively. 

“I’m just saying, Wilbur. If your vendetta against anteaters is that big, why don’t you search ‘em all out yourself and kill ‘em? You said they’re endangered already so it shouldn’t be that hard,” Tommy fiddles with the seam on the side of his jeans, continuing a conversation Phil had not heard the beginning of but can guess the topic of from that one sentence. 

“Is Will on about this again?” he asks, pushing himself off of the doorframe at the entrance to the kitchen to move to the counter. He leans up on it beside Tommy as varying cries of “Dad!” come from his kids. 

“We’re almost done,” Wilbur says, gesturing to him and Techno as he pulls the peppers off of the heat, dumping them into a pre-placed bowl beside the stove. “Just sit down at the table.”

Phil crooks an eyebrow, “you sure you boys don’t need help?”

“Of course we don’t!” Tommy cries, making a shooing motion towards the table. Techno snorts, still focused on his chicken, and Phil grabs one of Tommy’s hands, which has a bandaid wrapped around one of the fingers. He gives his son a look. This is why Tommy isn’t usually allowed to cook. 

Tommy flushes, “just sit down, dad.”

“Sure, sure,” Phil puts his hands up in surrender and goes to sit down as Techno pulls the chicken off the heat and puts it in another conveniently placed bowl, following it with pulling most of the pot of rice in another one and bringing them to the table. 

Tommy rapidly grabs bowls from the cutting board and places them on the table, rushing back and forth quickly. Phil is slightly worried he’s going to trip, but he’s just happy the teen isn’t trying to carry them all at once. 

Wilbur slaps a package of tortillas on the table and slides into his seat along with Tommy and Technoblade, the former of which is smiling widely at him. 

Nobody touches the food yet. They’re all looking at him. 

He sighs. 

“So, what’s the occasion?” he asks, gesturing for the tortillas, which Wilbur hands over. 

“Can’t we just want to have a family dinner?” Wilbur asks lightly, and Phil gives him a withering glance. He chuckles. 

“I usually have to announce family dinners like a fuckin’ week early, why did you suddenly decide to pull one out of the blue? Is one of you dying or something?”

The three of them laugh. Phil frowns.

“Oh, shit, is one of you dying?”

Tommy giggles wildly, “no one’s dying, dad.”

“So what's the occasion?”

“Is it so hard to believe we just genuinely wanted to eat dinner with our dad?” Techno asks, picking up the rice bowl, and Phil groans again.

“Yes?!”

“Well, that’s the truth,” Techno says plainly, and the table is quiet for a few seconds, except for the soft clinking of bowls and the scoop of ingredients. 

“Really?” Phil asks, a smile breaking out on his face. 

“Yep!” Wilbur confirms as he passes the cheese to Tommy, and Phil smiles even wider, looking down at his wrapped-up burrito, made with ingredients his sons prepared. because they wanted to have dinner. Together. 

“I love you guys,” he says, chest filling up with warmth until he feels like it’s about to burst. 

They made dinner to eat at one time together, because they wanted to eat it with him. God, they really know how to worm their ways right into his heart, don't they? Not that they don’t each already have their special places in there, but they all know Phil likes eating with them, and the fact that they had cooked themselves makes Phil even happier than family dinner already would. 

“Love you too, dad,” Tommy says, except the sentiment is kind of ruined by the fact that his mouth is absolutely full of burrito, and a kernel of corn splats onto his plate, along with some rice. 

“You’re fucking disgusting!” Wilbur shouts, hitting him and making Tommy screech back, trying to verbally attack him back but in the end just spewing more food everywhere. 

Even though the softer atmosphere from before had been almost immediately smashed, Phil still finds himself smiling warmly as two of his sons half-shout at each other and the third watches on with an amused smirk, slowly finishing off his burrito.

Phil knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyway i actually like this one so like follow me on [twitter im cool i swear](https://twitter.com/y9gurt)  
> 


End file.
